Don't Take Me For Granted
by TutorGirlml
Summary: A stalker strikes much closer than any of them could have expected...  A case fic with suspense and a lot of MorganGarcia thrown in for good measure.  Rating is mainly just to be on the safe side
1. Chapter 1

(Hey folks, it's me again. I'm trying a story with more of a suspense/mystery sort of vibe to it. It's gonna be a Morgan/Garcia pairing, though the rest of the team is in it. The first chapter here's going to be a bit of set-up, but it'll lay the groundwork for the rest. Hope you'll you like this and read it like you did my last one. And thanks in advance!)

Don't Take Me For Granted

By: TutorGirlml

Chapter One

April 8th, 8:57 a.m.

The cool spring breeze rifled gently through the branches of statuesque oak trees outside on the grounds of Bureau headquarters in Quantico, Virginia, kissing and tickling the newly green leaves into dancing wakefulness. It was 70 degrees and not a cloud in the sky; a perfect day, Derek Morgan thought as he dismounted the cycle he'd just parked in his employee space and took off his helmet, momentarily basking in the feel of the balmy air ghosting over his face, his cheeks creasing in a satisfied grin.

Normally not a morning person, he was in an inexplicably good mood today, and he found himself thinking maybe today the rest of the world could manage not to kill or maim or exploit each other for once. Then he could go in, get some coffee, wander down to computer central and talk to Penelope, catch up on some paperwork, and actually manage to have a calm, uneventful day at work.

Not that he'd want every day to be like that. He wouldn't fool anyone – even himself – if he claimed not to love the rush, the excitement of chasing down the bad guys, kicking in doors, and fighting the lurking everyday tide of evil. He did. Derek Morgan loved what he did, and very seldom did he tire of it, even if sometimes a case did hit closer to home than he liked, or if he sometimes suffered a intense wash of anger and guilt when they didn't catch an unsub in time. He always managed to bounce back, to keep plugging away to catch the next one, and the next. They all did. And he fell asleep most nights able to feel he had helped make the world just a tiny bit safer. That maybe somewhere there was a child he'd kept from going through what he had with Carl Buford, or stopped someone from staring down the barrel of a psychopath's gun like Reid had done in Tobias Hankel's cabin, or saved someone from whatever he suspected drove Emily, and Gideon, and Hotch, and even their ever-cheerful seeming JJ.

But, there were also days when he just wanted a break from all the world's ills and hurts.

Striding confidently into the front lobby, he nodded to the receptionist as he did every morning. She blushed, smiled back, mumbled a shy 'good morning' just as she did every day, then quickly glanced down when he gave her a wink and a disarming smile before stepping onto the elevators and letting the doors close behind him, shaking his head at her reaction. He didn't see what all the fuss was about when it came to women and the way they looked at him. When he looked in the mirror, all he saw was the same ordinary, familiar face that had gazed back at him every morning his whole life. But he was honest enough to admit that the blushing, stammering, and other assorted reactions he got from women did put an added spring in his step and make him feel pretty capable of charming anyone with a 'y' chromosome that he had the mind to.

There was only one exception to this; one woman Derek Morgan had every come across that seemed immune to his flirting, his teasing, his masculine appeal. She played back, she enjoyed their bantering game, but she never lost her cool either. He hadn't managed to get the best of her yet. And for some reason, that made him turn it on all the more. It was a favorite pastime, trying to see if he could finally get her good and flustered.

He was surprised as he reached the floor of the BAU offices, turned into the lounge to fetch himself the morning's first cup of coffee, and came face to face with the very woman he'd just been thinking about.

"Garcia!" he exclaimed, chuckling as she spun around to grin impishly at him, splooshing hot coffee over the sides of her crazily colored mug onto the floor and her hands as she did.

Oblivious to the mess she'd just created, and the near-scalding she'd almost given herself, her eyes lit up as she replied, "Good morning to you too, Gorgeous. How's the day treating you so far?"

"It's been just about perfect, Sweetness," he answered, matching her grin with one of his own, not realizing that the pleased, indulgent expression it put on his face was one that he only wore when talking to her. He saved it just for her without even knowing it. "And how has this morning been for our resident Goddess?"

"Excellent," she assured, stepping towards him to pat his cheek affectionately, "You just keep remembering the amazing-ness that is me and everything around here should be hunky-dory, Sweet Cheeks." She giggled, pleased with herself, but letting him know that she was only kidding.

"You got it," Morgan returned, giving her a nod of mock salute.

She started to slide past him and head back to her bunker and her wall of computers, but then she turned to face him again in the doorway, looking a bit more serious. "Actually, Derek," she said in a quieter voice, "would you mind coming and taking a look at something for me? For just a minute?"

"Sure, Mama, you know I will," he replied, his voice softening considerably at the hopeful look she had on her face. She turned to lead the way, and he placed his hand at the small of her back unconsciously, guiding her even as he followed.

When they got down the hall and she swung the door open to lead him in, Morgan could immediately see for himself what was different. "Whoa," he said, his voice rumbling in surprise. Every surface not occupied by a computer screen or a keyboard was completely, absolutely, covered. There were bouquets of roses, daisies, and marigolds wrapped in tissue, pots of geraniums and ferns, teddy bears, boxes of chocolates. It looked like some cross between a green house and a gift shop instead of the haven of technology it usually appeared as.

"Garcia, what is all this?" Morgan asked, slightly shocked, and interest definitely piqued.

"I don't honestly know," she blushed, chuckling a little and shrugging. "They've been coming two or three things a day for about a week now. Little notes with them, but no name."

Morgan's brow furrowed, the stuff he dealt with every day making him immediately suspicious, "They just started coming?" he asked.

She nodded, taking a sip of coffee and peeking at him over the rim of her mug. "I think it's kinda sweet," she added mischievously. "But I thought I'd better tell somebody, just in case. Plus, the mystery's wearing off, and I want that brilliant profiling ability of yours to help me figure out who's earned themselves a gigantic 'thank you' card."

He shook his head at her, several thoughts rushing through his brain at once. It was kinda funny. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with her getting flowers and chocolates; probably someone who worked around her had a little office crush. So why exactly was he not simply happy for her? Something about someone else flattering her and giving her gifts didn't sit right, and the fact that it upset him niggled at his composure too. All he said aloud though was a sing-song, "Someone's got a Secret Admirer."

"Pretty cool, huh?" she joked back, winking at him cheekily. The tiny bit of concern she'd had over the anonymous gifts evaporating when he didn't seem to be too worried about it. "What woman wouldn't like being showered with presents? Gives me something to look forward to."

For some reason that pricked at Morgan's conscience. Had she been feeling unappreciated before the presents started coming? He hated to think that some mystery man had been the one to make her feel special. She was part of their team. He, or one of them at least, should have done that.

Garcia studied his expression, oddly surprised at the pleasant thrill that went through her. _'No, get a grip, you're reading him wrong,' _she cautioned herself before she could get too carried away. She knew better. But if she didn't…she could swear that Derek Morgan looked like he was jealous. Over her. She shook that ridiculous thought off, and playfully reached out, poking his solid bicep as she asked, "What's the matter, Handsome?"

"Nothing," he hedged quickly, looking flustered and unable to explain himself. It was an odd look for the always cool, suave Derek Morgan. But then he seemed to clear his throat, square his stance, and start again. "Nothing, Baby Girl," he repeated more smoothly, "nothing at all."

He was saved from having to elaborate any further by Reid appearing at the door. He knocked once, then let himself in in a rush.

"Hey guys," he started, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Then his eyes widened at the sight of Garcia's room. "Garcia, I thought your birthday was next month! Where did all this come from?"

"My Secret Admirer," she said nonchalantly, getting a kick out of Reid's excited reaction too.

Reid stepped forward, curiously picking up one of the boxes of chocolate and studying it for a minute before giving a start and saying, "Oh! Sorry, I got sidetracked. Hotch sent me to get you for a briefing in the conference room."

"Thanks, I'll be right there," Morgan told him, sighing. _'So much for a normal, relaxing day,'_ his mind whispered.

Reid nodded, gave Garcia a wave, and took off back the way he'd come.

Morgan turned back to her, a resigned sort of half-smile on his face. "Duty calls."

She nodded, brightening once more. "While you're gone, start thinking about ways we can figure out who this is," she suggested. "Maybe I can get a hot date out of this!"

"We'll see," he tossed back as he headed for the door. She certainly deserved a fun night out, a nice guy to appreciate what an amazing person she was… Was there some particular reason he didn't feel all that interested in helping her find Romeo? Just before he left, he couldn't help giving her a bit of caution, that was probably unnecessary, and yet… "Hey, Garcia, don't run off to meet Mr. Right all alone if you figure it out, okay? Use that computer genius brain of yours. If the tone of the notes change, if anything seems odd instead of sweet, let one of us know. Deal?"

"Just how naïve do you think I am?" she asked, hand on her hip in mock indignation. "I don't think it's anything to be concerned about, I just wanted a second opinion. But don't worry. I won't do anything stupid. I promise." She held up a hand like she was swearing some sort of oath and then winked at him, completely ruining the action.

He turned to go once more, and she followed him into the hallway. "Call me with a challenge on this one," she said, her voice making him laugh even from down the hall.

"Will do," he called back, waving at her over his shoulder, then turning the corner and disappearing from her sight.


	2. Chapter 2

_(Things pick up quite a bit in this chapter. Stay tuned! Hope you're enjoying it._

_I forgot to remind everyone last time that I don't own "Criminal Minds" or any of the characters, but you already knew that anyway!)_

Don't Take Me For Granted

Chapter 2

April 8th, 9:30 a.m.

"Not to be difficult," Emily Prentiss was saying, after they'd seen the basic layout of their newest case, "but why did they call us in on this? This doesn't even seem to be the work of a serial unsub."

Morgan and Reid both nodded in agreement. The case they'd just been presented with seemed nothing like one that they would usually work. For one thing, there was no hint of this being the work of a serial killer. There were no other cases tied to this one, that they could see, and no one had been killed, or even hurt. It looked like a standard case of breaking and entering, along with extensive vandalism.

"For one thing," Hotch began, "it happened just a few towns over, close enough to us that they asked us to take a look since local p.d. hasn't been able to turn up any evidence or leads."

"But does it merit us leaving behind any of the other cases we would have taken?" Morgan pushed, curious that JJ and then Hotch too would choose it when it fit none of the usual criteria.

"It does, but I only say that because I've been here long enough to remember why," Gideon said quietly, breaking into the discussion in the gently authoritative voice he had that seemed to naturally garner obedience. "None of you were here. But there _is _reason to believe this unsub is indeed a serial. He's simply taken a very long hiatus between his last offense and now."

"What are you saying, Gideon?" Reid asked, perplexed, which was an extremely rare occurrence for him.

Gideon sighed, then continued, "There were a string of cases in the late 80s that looked just like this. They were ruled as vandalism, though there were always only a few things missing, always very specific items. In every instance, the place belonged to a female homeowner living alone; all of them mentioned feeling like they were being watched a few days, or even weeks, prior to when the vandalism occurred, but none of them had reported it, thinking they were being paranoid. I'd just finally gotten placed in the BAU and on a field team. We were tailing this guy hard, thinking we also had him, when he went off book." Here Gideon paused again, a sadly reminiscent look on his face as he went on, "Up to this point, the unsub hadn't hurt or killed any of the people he'd targeted. He'd scared them and taken items of personal value to them, but no one had been directly threatened. But then he took the bait we offered, he struck the "home" we'd sat up for one of our female undercover agents – just what we'd wanted him to do. We had the place surrounded and were moving in, when it exploded in flames. He'd set it on fire, and we couldn't get in. It burned to the ground within minutes, before the fire department even reached it."

He rubbed a suddenly weary seeming hand over his eyes. "We lost the agent. She was young, just starting with the Bureau, and we'd thought we were easing her in with a case that wasn't all that dangerous. It hit everyone hard, and it was hard not to feel at fault. It was a mistake, probably, to have placed her in there, but there was no way of knowing he would deviate so drastically from his established pattern. To this day, we don't know if he discovered the setup, if something happened between he and the agent in there that night, or if he simply had a violent break. No remains were left, but he was ruled dead in the fire. The case was closed since there were no traces of him and the break-ins stopped."

"At least they had until now," Hotch finished grimly. "But this scene echoes those twenty year old scenes enough that we have to consider he might have somehow escaped that fire and been lying in wait all this time."

Gideon nodded and stood, as Morgan, Emily, and Reid did they same, trying to take all the details in as they did.

"Why would an unsub stop acting out for such a long period of time?" Reid asked, thinking through as they walked.

Morgan shrugged, "It does seem unusual, if he was under a compulsion to stalk those women, enter their homes and possess items of theirs, he wouldn't have been able to simply stop doing it for nearly two decades. It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe he stopped because of his own guilt," Prentiss suggested, staying in step with Morgan and Reid as they neared the elevators. "Maybe he wasn't under a compulsion, but a delusion that he had some sort of connection or relationship with these women. When one of them actually died, and at his own hand, it could have rocked him enough to stop him, to scare him into hiding."

"Maybe," Reid allowed, mulling it over. He looked at her and smiled slightly, "It makes about as much sense as anything so far."

"But if that's the case, what triggered him to start again now?" Morgan interjected.

"That what we'll hopefully get a clue of from the scene," Hotch broke in. They all nodded in understanding and fell silent as the elevator let them off on the ground floor and they headed for the SUVs.

Meanwhile, Garcia had gone back into her own little world contained in her office of infinite knowledge. Still chuckling at Morgan's teasing and the oddness of having a secret admirer in the first place, she plunked herself down before her main computer monitor and tried to actually start working. She wondered idly why she'd hadn't gone ahead and told Derek the rest of the story while she'd had him there, relatively relaxed and calm. It wasn't really the gifts themselves that had made her slightly nervous, they'd entertained her from the start. It was that a few days ago, she'd started to feel as though she somehow wasn't alone when she got out of her car and headed to the front door of her apartment at night. Or how she sometimes felt like she was being watched when she was one of the last people left in the office after hours. She never seen or heard anything that gave her any proof or solid evidence, just a shiver running down her spine and the raising of the hair at the back of her neck.

Mentally, she shoved it aside, knowing it had to be nothing, and that telling Morgan would only get him worked up over a nonexistent threat and make him go all overprotective big brother on her. She blew out a cleansing breath and focused her attention on the several information searches her babies were already running for different departments in the Bureau.

After a half hour, she was satisfied that she had thing underway, and leaned back in her chair, propping her lime-green stockinged feet up on the desk and relaxing as she finished her coffee. She was humming a random snatch of music to herself when a noise behind her startled her enough to make her jump, spilling the last of her drink on her keyboard and across her desk.

Whipping around in her seat, a reprimand about knocking before entering her computer sanctuary on her lips, Garcia turned to see who was there.

Relief rushed back through her when she saw that it was a man she recognized vaguely from the building. She didn't if he was a new computer tech or a janitor or some other entrance level newcomer, but she had seen him before.

Her irritation and the start he'd given her came back to her though when she remembered her now-wet computer. She forced herself to smile, trying to put herself at ease, mostly, but she also knew that even if this guy belonged in the building, he as yet had no business being here that she knew, and it set her on edge.

"Whoa! You scared me!" she said, chuckling nervously at her own expense and reaching for the roll of paper towels she kept under her desk in case of emergencies like this. "Knock, or let a person know you're there, before you sneak up on them! I spilt coffee on my babies here, and I'm a tad obsessive about anything hurting them, so.."

She trailed off at this, and her motions to clean up froze as she glanced at her visitor again. He didn't say a word, and as he stepped further into her private chamber and closed the door, she noticed for the first time what a large guy he was and how icy and cold his eyes were. The expression on his face was scaring her more that she wanted to admit. "Look, I'd rather you'd leave the door open, if you don't mind. People come in here with requests and-" she started, only to have him cut her off.

"Have you not liked your gifts?" he asked, his voice pitched strangely, sounding almost mechanical.

"What?" she asked. "Oh! These? Yes, well, I didn't know who they were from, but they're very nice. I just –"

He stepped closer still, and she attempted to step back, only to hit the edge of her desk. "You haven't thanked me for any of it," he intoned, voice taking on an angry note. "I wanted you to like them."

"Alright," Garcia said firmly, suddenly getting over the fright he'd given her and finding her normal gumption again. "I've really liked the presents, and all the secret intrigue; it was really nice of you. But I think you need to go for now, I've got a lot of work to do and –"

But her words were stalled in her throat a third time, and she swallowed hard as the guy reached into the waistband of his slacks and pulled out a gun. All words escaped her, and all she could do for a second was stare blankly.

"No, I don't think I'll go quite yet," he countered. "We're not finished."

_'Oh yes we are!' _Garcia's mind screamed silently as she shot forward suddenly, finding her wits and quickly trying to dodge around him and make a run for the door.

He reacted just as quickly, one arm firmly catching her around the neck and shoulders and holding on, the other pressing the gun to her side. "Not so fast," he muttered, his voice harsh in her ear now, causing her to start shaking all over with fear, no matter how hard she tried not to succumb to it. "We're going to take a little walk. Right out of here together, without a fuss. You understand?"

She nodded quickly, not having any other alternative with that gun insistently digging against her ribs.

"Good," he laughed menacingly, "Then, in that case, Ms. Garcia, it's time for you to come with me."


	3. Chapter 3

(Hey folks, here's chapter three. Thanks for all the reviews so far! I'm sorry for the delay, I honestly didn't mean to leave you hanging like I did. As always, I don't own any of this, just playing with it! )

Don't Take Me For Granted

Chapter 3

April 8th, 11:15 a.m.

At the scene, Morgan paced around looking through the modest two-story home, and scrubbing a frustrated hand over the back of his neck in agitation. "Something isn't right about this," he murmured to himself, though Reid heard him easily as he had been following Morgan around for a good five minutes, wondering why his partner seemed so agitated.

"How do you mean?" Reid asked, trying to feel him out, discover what he was thinking. Though he himself was incredibly good with facts, code breaking, and recall, Reid often felt that, other than Gideon, Morgan usually had the best sense of a crime scene.

"Well, obviously, we've got the breaking and entering, and the vandalism," Morgan gestured around them to illustrate his point.

"The place is trashed," Reid agreed with a nod.

"But the homeowner over there," Morgan inclined his head toward the distraught-looking woman JJ was speaking with, who'd returned home from a week's vacation a mere hour ago to see her home surrounded by squad cars, government SUVs, and swarming with law enforcement personnel, "swears that she can't find anything missing."

"Which was a key component of this guy's profile before," Reid remembered easily, knowing what Morgan was getting at. "But it's been nearly twenty years. He could have changed his style slightly, altered his game a little."

"True," Morgan conceded, though he didn't look appeased. "But she also didn't mention anything about feeling watched, not stalked like those other women did in this unsub's previous cases. And without those two indicators…"

"What keeps this from being a random case of someone vandalizing property?" Reid finished, a sudden feeling that Morgan was right overtaking him.

Morgan shrugged, looking at Reid as if hoping the younger man would correct him, tell him they were supposed to be here. But he could see easily that instead of talking him down, his partner was coming to the same conclusion. His broad shoulders slumped and then he said, "I think we came out here for nothing, Reid."

"No, not nothing," Prentiss corrected, coming to their side just then, case file in hand. "Look at these pictures, then look at the corresponding parts of this house. They're meticulously arranged to look exactly like the old ones. There's no way in hell some random punk could have done that. No one but the original unsub would have known just how to copy those crime scenes."

"So why don't the rest of the pieces fit?" Morgan asked. "The stalking prior to the break-in, and the taking of personal mementos was the signature."

Reid's quick mind was already churning, rolling the information around, until he abruptly found a fit. "Well, either this is a well-informed, connected copycat, who somehow has inside knowledge about the case. I know, I know…not likely," he said at both Morgan and Prentiss' raised eyebrows. "Or," here he licked his lips excitedly, almost sure that he had it, "this _is_ our unsub, but it's not the true crime scene. He's set this up as a distraction. To keep us away from what he was really trying to do."

"You may be on to something, Reid," Morgan said, nodding, the idea obviously gaining steam in his head as he thought it through. "So, he focused his stalking somewhere else – on the real object of his attentions. I'll get Garcia on any recent reports of stalking in the area, restraining orders requested, crank phone calls, that sort of thing."

He flipped open his cell as Reid and Prentiss waited expectantly. Gideon and Hotch joined them, and Reid offered his theory to their supervisors, which Gideon mulled over for a moment before affirming that it was certainly a possibility.

Morgan, meanwhile, was listening to the phone ring continuously over and over with no answer on Garcia's end. She almost never failed to snatch the thing up on the first ring and hit him with some outrageous greeting. Finally, he gave up and disconnected the call, feeling much more unsettled than was probably necessary.

"What is it?" Hotch asked, seeing Morgan's concern, and being innately tuned in to any disruption in his team's normally smooth functioning order.

"Garcia didn't answer," Morgan said slowly, brain suddenly contemplating a scenario he didn't like very much – one he terrifyingly felt he should have connected much sooner. He felt like he knew exactly what the unsub had been drawing them away from, and his stomach lurched at the thought. Fear gripped him in a way it very rarely did, spurring him into instinctive action. Strong jaw clenching, he ground out a request to Hotch to run back to headquarters in one of the two vehicles they'd brought to check on something.

"I don't supposed I should be concerned with why it's such an emergency?" Hotch questioned pointedly, alerted by the look of near-panic covering Morgan's features.

"Believe me, Hotch," Morgan assured him grimly, "I hope I'm just jumping to the worst possible conclusion here. But if I'm not, if this isn't all in my head, you'll be the first to know."

Gideon glanced at Hotch and gave an almost imperceptible shrug as if to say for him to let Morgan go ahead while they'd finish up and wait for him to explain himself when he was ready. Hotch nodded slightly, then handed Morgan the keys. Morgan was already heading off before any more words could be spoken.

The rest of the team watched in concern, as they saw him pick his pace up to a jog, throw open the driver's side door, launch himself in, and peel out of the driveway fast enough to spray gravel as he went, and wondered what was going on that he was keeping them in the dark about. Somehow, they all seemed certain that he wouldn't merely jump to conclusions, and that whatever he was worried about was bad, and very real.

Morgan didn't waste any time once he got back to headquarters, nearly running down the hallway to Garcia's office. He didn't know why he felt so sure that Penelope was in danger, or why he knew in his gut that she was connected to all this, but it was a certainty he couldn't seem to shake. He felt that he already taken too long and had to get to her before something happened to her, if it hadn't already. He'd kept trying to call her the entire drive back, and she had never picked up, making it abundantly clear she hadn't just been away from her desk for minute, which he'd been trying to tell himself was why she didn't answer the first time.

"Garcia!" he called out, already repeating her name as he burst through the door. A quick glance around showed him she wasn't there, and he wanted to grab something, anything, and fling it against the wall in frustration. "Where are you, Pen?" he muttered to himself. And it was then, as he stood there wondering what exactly had happened, that he saw her overturned mug and coffee spilled all over her keyboard and left there. There was no way Garcia would ever have left her "babies" in that condition – not unless she'd been forced to…

That did it. He glanced around at the gifts bedecking all the space in her room and saw them clearly for the threat that they were. Eyes narrowed and fists clenched in helpless anger, he wanted to rip every bouquet and bear apart with his bare hands. Instead, he forced himself to dial Hotch's cell, feeling panic start to creep over him more fully, even as he tried to remain in control. He wouldn't help her any by losing it. "Hotch," he gritted out when his boss answered, "You guys need to get back here, pronto." He hated that his voice wobbled slightly on the next words, "I think I've got his true crime scene here. I'm… I'm in Garcia's office." He didn't, couldn't, say much else in explanation, just ended the call and stood there for a second, raging on the inside.

He couldn't believe that he'd blithely told Garcia that morning that this was all nothing, that she simply had a secret admirer. How could he have not taken this seriously? How could he do what he did every day and not be more cautious? Why hadn't he warned her to have this checked out? Why hadn't he checked it out himself?

If some psychopath hurt her, if she was…well, he couldn't even think of all that could be happening to her right now; he had too full an arsenal of nightmares. But worst of all, he felt like whatever she might be suffering was on him, for not being more alert and making sure she was safe.

He truly did want to break something, punch the wall, anything to release the pressure building to a crescendo inside him. He knew he didn't have a good way of dealing with his anger when it got this intense, he never had, but it still felt like it would satisfy him for the moment. He knew that Garcia would want him to mop up the mess on her keyboard before it did anymore damage, instead of contemplating smashing the glass out of the monitor, which she would have his head for. And his hands itched to at least do that much for her, but he couldn't chance destroying any evidence that might have been left behind.

Slamming a fist down on the desk impatiently, he knew that he had to wait, to regroup, to figure out with the team the best way to track this scumbag from here. But he knew one thing already; this one was personal. He wasn't resting until he caught up with this sicko and they got Penelope back.


	4. Chapter 4

(I'm really excited about the reviews I've been getting on this one! Thanks a bunch! I'm gonna try to keep this story exciting and frequently updated. Hopefully, you all will keep liking it!)

Don't Take Me For Granted

Chapter 4

April 8th, 1:20 p.m.

Penelope Garcia was scared. Heck, scratch that, she was terrified, she admitted to herself. It wasn't something she'd felt often, not being the damsel-in-distress type. She squashed her own spiders, changed her own flat tires, and wasn't afraid to walk alone at night, thank you very much. She wasn't given to nightmares or tears very often, but there were silent tears leaking from her eyes now, even though they were covered with a blindfold, they were soaking it and escaping underneath.

She didn't want to give in to hysterics, but she was completely unequipped to deal with this. Her job hadn't ever put her in danger before, she usually helped from safely back at headquarters and simply worried about the rest of them. However, what she did do wasn't helping her state of mind now. She'd been working with the BAU team long enough now to have seen a lot. She managed to keep her head above the despair that threatened after what they witnessed most days, but the cases she'd helped with, footage and pictures she'd seen, were coming back to haunt her, turning her stomach. Her imagination was running wild over all the things this psycho could be planning to do to her.

And she was pretty much helpless to stop him. She knew she wasn't exactly tiny, and she'd never considered herself a weakling, but she didn't even know where she was to try to make a run for it, she couldn't see to figure anything out, and this lunatic had a gun.

He'd blindfolded her as soon as they'd walked out of the building and over to a nearby alley where he had forced her into his car. She'd realized once, just before they left the light of the main street and the presence of witnesses, that she should be kicking and screaming, fighting back. Even if he shot her, it would be better than him taking her. But it was too late, as if her brain had kicked back in from the shock too sluggishly to react in time. Seemingly reading her mind, her captor shook his head warningly just as she gathered breath into her lungs to yell.

"Don't do it," he'd warned her, already pulling her into the dark alley. "I _will _shoot you. There's a silencer on this gun and no one would even hear it. Then I'll go back in there and wait for your team and shoot them too, just to make up for not getting what I want."

And so she'd done nothing. She knew it had been stupid. There was no way he could have carried out his threat against the rest of them without being caught, but she'd been scared and panicked, her mind not working at its usual speed, and now it wouldn't do her any good.

They'd driven for a long time, but the vehicle was pulling to a stop now. She fearfully tried to work out in her head where he could possibly have taken her – or if she even wanted to know. Before she could really get her bearings or steady her nerves, he was jerking her out of the backseat by her arms, which he'd tied behind her, and she was blindly tripping trying not to fall to her knees, letting out a cry of fear involuntarily.

Mistaking this for resistance, the man's hand gripped even tighter, digging into her skin hard enough to bruise. "I wouldn't waste my breath," he whispered harshly, running a hand down her bare arm that made her skin crawl. "No one's going to hear you."

She realized then, with a corresponding sinking of her stomach, how eerily quiet and void of the city's familiar noises it was, and that there were leaves crunching beneath her feet as he forced her forward. _'You're in it deep now, Penelope," _she chided herself in her head. How could she have just gone quietly like an idiot? How was anyone going to find her in the middle of nowhere?

Her mind now recklessly careened from real-life crime scenes to deserted back woods cabins in the many campy horror movies she'd watched. The fear cementing itself even more firmly as she was pushed up what felt like wooden steps onto a porch and through a door into what must truly be a cabin, just as she'd pictured.

She was well and truly panicked in a way she had never been before, and though she tried to tell herself not to, but instead to think, to figure out an escape, her mind wouldn't cooperate.

Now that they were inside, she heard the door close and lock behind them, and he pushed her into a chair and unbound her arms only to roughly tied her wrists to the arms of the hard-backed chair instead. This was it, she was going to die here, and that sudden thought immediately made a little bit of her revolt. Suddenly, a tiny bit of anger lit within the fear and panic. _Oh no, _she thought, almost smirking a tiny bit to herself, _I'm not going to die out here in some scrubby old cabin. If he thinks I'm just gonna give up, he's got a fight coming…_

Finally, he removed the blindfold and she squinted against the reappearance of light, unprepared just as she had been for its disappearance. "Hush now," his voice intoned, somehow even more creepy now that it sounded as silky as it had been harsh not long before. He'd obviously seen her tears and it wasn't the reaction he'd wanted. She cringed back as a calloused finger traced a tear track down her cheek, wiping the moisture away. "Don't cry, Gorgeous. I've got you. You're mine now. Everything will be fine. You just have to do what I tell you."

The word 'Gorgeous' from this man's evil mouth struck her like a blow, breaking something inside. It was an endearment Morgan had often used with her, warming her deep into her soul, but now it had suddenly been twisted horrifically into a mockery, something that turned her insides completely, deathly cold.

The thought of Morgan made his face flash through her mind. She did want to start sobbing then. If only he knew what had happened…he'd know what to do, he'd get her out of this. In fact, she probably wouldn't even be in this miss if she had told him everything sooner.

Why had she been so ridiculously stupid? She hadn't wanted to tell him and find out that the gifts and notes, the feeling of someone admiring her, was a hoax. She should have known something was wrong. No one had ever been secretly - or openly, for that matter - in love with her. Storybook things like that didn't happen for people like her; plus size computer geeks who wore wildly outrageous clothes and funky glasses and were permanently joking and harmlessly flirting to disguise how much that knowledge hurt them. So she'd hidden the fact that there'd been a lot of odd hang-up phone calls to her office when she worked late, the feeling that sometimes she was being watched or wasn't alone when she was sure that she should have been, and even when she'd come clean about the gifts, she hadn't offered the rest of the evidence. She'd been too desperate to hold onto her illusion, and too pleased by the fact that maybe Derek was just a little bit jealous.

If she had just told Morgan everything that morning, he would have had it all checked out, would have made sure she was safe and not left alone where this could have happened. But no, both her wish to think that someone wanted her, and the possibility that Derek would look at her in a new light because of it, had flattered her and kept her from doing what was best for her own protection.

She was jerked back into the present by her abductor's angry outburst, jerking her chair forward until his face was bare inches from hers. "I told you to stop crying!" he growled. For a second the fear kicked up a notch, as she tensed, expecting him to hit her or attack her, the look on his face was so wildly angry. But instead, he stood and whirled around, stalking to the door of the cabin. "I'll be back," he warned, "so if you think you're going to get rid of me that easily, you're wrong. I'll give you a minute to come around, then I think you'll see that everything's going to be fine. You're mine, after all, so you might as well accept it. Things will be much easier for you, if you do."

He left, turning out the light as he went, and the slam of the door behind him let her know that though his voice sounded as though he'd tried to calm back down after his outburst, the fury was still there, just barely contained below the surface. She thought oddly for a second of Jason Gideon profiling this guy, telling them what delusions and compulsions he must be suffering from. Ruefully, she realized that while, given time, she might well figure some of it out, it might not be enough or in time, to use against him to save herself. The one-room, windowless cabin seemed nearly black, and darkness fell over her, giving her nothing to do but wait with her hurt and fear and regret washing through her in waves, and wonder what she could possibly do to get herself out of this.

It hadn't taken the team long upon arriving back at the BAU to agree with Morgan that this unsub had been targeting Garcia the whole time, and from there they had sprung quickly into action. JJ had Garcia's picture and the information that they were searching for her on the local television and radio at the first possible time it could be aired. Gideon, Hotch, and Emily had hunkered down with all the information that had been compiled on the unsub twenty odd years before, and what little they had gathered at the false scene that morning, looking for clues, connections, anything that would give them a lead on where to look, how to go after this criminal who'd been like a ghost for nearly two decades.

Morgan and Reid waited for CSI to finish processing Garcia's office for any evidence that might have been left, Morgan pacing impatiently just outside the door, shooting the crime scene investigators death looks, as if he thought they weren't working fast enough, and looking just shy of punching a fist through the wall. Reid fidgeted nervously, not sure how to help, concerned for Garcia, but also concerned for his partner, wondering why Morgan was so far gone beyond the worry and fear the rest of them were experiencing. He too wished they could just get in there and begin going through all the gifts and notes, hoping they would fine something to point them in the right direction.

At last, the room was clear, and Morgan stormed in, grabbing up every note he could find, handing half of them to Reid and beginning to skim over the rest himself, his eyes flitting over the lines restlessly. Suddenly, he voice burst out, as if he'd been trying to hold the words back too long and they'd finally escaped. "This is all my fault," Morgan announced, looking overcome with self-loathing.

"What? How? How is any of this your fault?" Reid sputtered, confused.

"She showed me all this stuff this morning, and I just blew it off, teased her about having a secret admirer. I didn't give it the thought I should have. I should have had it checked out just to be sure, she wanted my opinion on if it was just harmless or if she should be concerned…" he trailed off, looking so torn between angry and devastated that Reid hardly knew which emotion to address first.

"You couldn't have known right away," Reid said, trying to assuage at least a little of his friend's guilt. "She didn't tell you when they first started coming, you didn't realize the depth of it; there wasn't any reason to think it was more than someone having a harmless crush on her. In time you would have seen it, and if you'd known all along you might have been able to stop this. But what's important now is figuring this guy out, getting a profile, and getting her back. Right?" he prodded.

Morgan sighed, running a defeated hand over his face, but nodding to Reid, steely determination taking over his features at that last comment. "You're right," he told Reid grimly. "Sorry. This isn't helping anyone. What do you make of these notes? Kinda creepy, huh?"

"I thought so," Reid agreed, holding up a couple. "But, I think there's something here that might help us…"


	5. Chapter 5

(Just want to warn you that after this chapter, I'm going to be out of town until Sunday or Monday, so there probably won't be any updates until then, unless I can get to a computer some evening. Thanks again for all the nice comments and encouragement on this one, and of course, I still don't own any of it, though if I could just have Morgan for a little while I'd be a very happy girl )

Chapter 5

April 8th, 2:45 p.m.

"Are you sure she said this had only been going on for a week?" Reid asked Morgan, after studying the notes he held and the ones Morgan had taken a bit longer, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"That's what she told me this morning," Morgan replied impatiently, crossing his arms and fixing Reid with a look that he hoped would prompt the young genius to hurry up and tell him what clue he thought he had. "Why? You thinkin' it's been longer than that?"

"Well, that could be when the gifts and notes began arriving _here _for her, but I don't think it was the unsub's first contact with her," Reid said, handing the missives back to Morgan, urging him to skim over them a second time. "Look at these, none of them indicate any sort of beginning – none of them have the sort of greeting or introduction that would tell us this is where his communication started."

"Couldn't that just be part of his delusion?" Morgan questioned, trying to be rational, though he could easily see Reid's point for himself, right there before his eyes. "That he already knew her and had a connection or relationship with her, and that's what caused the contact and gifts to start?"

"It could be," Reid drew the answer out thoughtfully, "but I think it shows that they aren't where he started…"

"You think he's been planning this for a while then?" Morgan asked, forcing his temper down before the last vestiges of his control were completely blown.

"It probably depends on the level of his delusion," Reid responded, knowing that Morgan already knew that for himself, but he wasn't thinking as clearly as he usually would right now. "If he believes that he and Garcia are somehow connected; involved romantically, or whatever else, he may well have expected Garcia to come to him when she received his gifts. After a time, when she didn't responded as he thought she should have, he may have decided to take more drastic measures."

"So he set up the distraction, the crime scene just like his old ones, knowing our team would be the one called out on it, since we have the only agent still in the field that worked the original case. And once we were out of the way, he knew he could get to her without causing much suspicion. Reid, I'm really not liking how much he seems to know about us."

"I agree that's pretty odd," Reid nodded. "Makes you wonder just how he knows all that he does."

Morgan nodded, blowing out a breath of frustration. It was strange, and yet it wasn't he most pressing concern just then. "This unsub – and I think we're pretty sure it is the same guy as before – has a history of beginning passively though. He set up a pretense, possibly in the hope that the women he targeted would come to him, but he's never resorted to taking them before. Even the undercover agent, he just killed her when he blew up the house, he didn't try to take her with him. None of the others even actually came face-to-face with him. The question is, what made Garcia different? What made him abduct her when he's never tried that before?"

"Twenty years is a long time to wait between crimes," Reid answered, shrugging. "He obviously wasn't idle though, he was learning more tricks of his trade, and growing bolder. Figuring out how to move from vandalizing her property to actually possessing the object of his desire. I don't know, but he could have felt a degree of guilt over the agent's death that made him retreat from his behaviors for a time, or else he was frightened into temporarily abandoning the stalking and vandalism by the explosion and how close he came to getting caught. Either way, he might have attempted to live normally for quite a while; years even. He was laying low, below the radar, until something made him snap, come back to what he'd been doing before, only this time he equipped himself to take it even further."

"So why Garcia? How'd even find her?" Morgan asked pointedly, feeling even more frantic just listening to Reid talk about the guy who now had Garcia.

Reid shook his head, "I don't know that yet, but I do have one other clue."

"What's that?" Morgan asked, leaning forward anxiously, knowing they had to find something soon. This guy had already had Garcia for hours and they didn't as yet even know how to set out after him.

"Well, here," Reid pointed, "in this note. It says, 'You say you want a man who can handle a strong, independent woman. That's just who I am.' He's _heard_ her say that, there's no other reason he would word it that way, is there?"

Morgan shook his head, brow furrowed, "That doesn't sound like something Garcia would randomly say to just anyone."

"But then, why else –" Reid persisted, starting to argue his point, only to be interrupted by a frazzled and distraught-looking JJ poking her head in just then. After glancing around Garcia's space, which seemed incredibly bare and lonely without its mistress' vivacious presence, her eyes looked even more weary and hopeless.

"Round table room in five," she said quietly. "Hotch wants to compare notes; see if we've got anything useful."

Morgan nodded curtly, letting her know he understood and then glancing once more around Garcia's room, as if wishing the computers would speak to him and tell him what to do to bring their tech goddess back. Reid gave JJ a small smile, hoping to cheer her just a little. It was hard to see JJ like that; hers was the face that always remained positive, upbeat, relaying to those outside their team her confidence that everything was under control, that the bad guys were on their way to being caught, and they'd have one more success on their record.

They followed her silently to the team's conference room, taking a seat at the round table with the others, and hoping perhaps they had more to go on than the two of them had found.

Gideon spoke first, telling them that while they didn't have a lot of information, they had managed to dig up the suspect list from when the case had been worked before, and had already checked out most of their potential unsubs. "Only about three of them are still possibilities," he finished.

"Well then, what are we waiting for, let's go get 'em," Morgan burst out, standing and making for the door without waiting for the rest of them.

Gideon interrupted him before he could take off though. He'd been thinking about Morgan's reaction to all this ever since he'd sped off from the crime scene that morning, and thought he knew why one of his best agents was acting so unhinged by this case. Morgan was coiled so tightly it was quite possible he might explode and jeopardize their investigation. And though he knew their resident man of action wouldn't be happy about it, he was going to do what was best for both Morgan, and, he hoped in the long run, for Garcia's well-being as well. "Actually, Morgan, Emily and I are going to one suspect's home, while Hotch and JJ take another, then we'll reconvene and check out the third address. I want you and Reid to go to Garcia's apartment, look for any hints of contact the unsub might have had with Garcia before he began stalking her here. If we figure out how he found her in the first place, we might be closer to knowing who he is and where he would have taken her."

Reid started to add his theory just then, that he thought the unsub had picked her out and tried to make a connection with her much before things started showing up at her office, but Morgan didn't even let him get started. "Gideon, don't keep me out of the loop here. It's gotta be one of your previous suspects. Let Reid and I take the third place. We don't have time to waste, and we can spend time figuring out how it happened once we've got her back."

"I'm not certain enough yet that it's one of these three to not try and complete the profile as well," Gideon told him patiently. He politely refrained from saying that Morgan's emotions were clouding his judgment right then, and he'd be a liability until they knew for sure who they were after. Once they were sure they were tracking the right guy however, then he might let Morgan go after him, he thought with a wry smirk.

"Go on," Hotch ordered firmly, backing Gideon up, and Morgan slammed out of the room with a growl, Reid shrugging to the rest of them apologetically before turning to follow.

"Reid," JJ offered, stopping him for just a moment. "She's got some sort of blog or online journal or something like that on her laptop at home. I don't know that it'll help, but people do contact her through it, he could have found her that way."

Reid nodded to her gratefully, thinking it sounded highly possible, then hurried out the door, trotting to catch Morgan who was already waiting at the elevators.

It wasn't just Gideon who was starting to piece together what was going on now. In fact, it was probably only Morgan and Garcia themselves who didn't see it yet.

April 8th, 3:00 p.m.

The door to the cabin swung back open, revealing her stalker silhouetted menacingly to Garcia's narrowed eyes. She couldn't see much more than a fuzzy outline, even after he flipped on the light switch and bathed the room in a gold glow, because her eyes were puffy from her earlier tears and her glasses had been lost to her when she'd first been blindfolded.

"Are you willing to know what I had planned for this evening?" he asked calmly, as if they'd just experienced some awkwardness on a first date, instead of him kidnapping her from her place of work and nearly sending her into a panic attack in fear. "I hope your outlook has improved some, now that you've had a chance to think things over."

His voice was much calmer now, sounding almost pleased with himself, as if he'd shown incredible restraint, giving her time to get used to the whole situation. Garcia bit back a stinging retort, knowing making him angry wouldn't help her any. She knew however, that the time alone must have given her time to gather some of her courage back, because now she was fighting mad at him instead of terrified. She simply chose what seemed the safest course and said nothing at all.

"Still not sure about us, are you?" he answered, giving her a smile which she supposed he meant to be endearing, but it only succeeded in twisting her insides. He stepped into the kitchen and she heard him rummaging around, only to emerge a minute later with a glass of iced tea.

"Here, you must be thirsty after all this time," he said, putting it down while he untied her hands and then offering the drink to her.

She took it but only held it, looking from the tea to his face suspiciously until he laughed menacingly and pulled the gun out again, "Just drink it," he said, the hard glint back in his eyes. "Don't be so difficult."

Realizing that she was probably going to lose either way she reacted, but preferring not to have a bullet wound in her, Garcia finally took a sip of the tea, and when he waved the gun to urge her on, finished the whole glass in a couple more swallows.

"There you are, that didn't hurt much, did it?" he asked mockingly. She tried to nod again in agreement, but for some reason that told her horribly she'd been right to not want a drink her head was suddenly swimming too much to comply. His form was dancing oddly before her eyes, though his next words struck panic through her. "Let's make you more comfortable, shall we, My Sweet?"

Again, she tried to respond, attempting to shake her head 'no', but nothing seemed to happen and she felt so tired and dizzy that she barely registered that he was slowly and with odd gentleness removing her chunky, wedge-heeled shoes, and then trying to remove the lime-green stockings. Mustering every once of strength she seemed to possess, she let out a strangled sort of yell and managed to scuttle back just a bit in her chair.

It cost her dearly though, as she slumped over in the chair, feeling as if she could barely breath and was paralyzed against any more movement. He stood up and moved toward her again, but she had no means left with which to resist. However, he didn't attempt to finish what he'd started, instead he brandished a needle at her and said, "Very well, I supposed we'll have to wait. As I only wanted you not to fight, I didn't want to put you to sleep and have you miss all the fun."

And with those words, he poked the tip of the needle into her arm and injected whatever its contents were into her body. Garcia felt her eyes flutter closed and knew no more.


	6. Chapter 6

(Hey folks, sorry that this update has taken longer. I was doing so well with faster updating this time too! Anyway, between my trip out of town and reading Harry Potter, this is the fastest I could get this to you. Hope it lives up to all the great reviews you've given the story so far, you're definitely making me feel great as I write! And of course, I don't own the show or any of the characters, just my own little story.)

Don't Take Me For Granted

Chapter 6

April 8th, 5:10 p.m.

Hotch and JJ had burst through the suspect's front door, guns drawn, nerves taut and ready, when no one had answered their knocking and announcement that the FBI was there. But not long after completing the sweep and declaring the place clear of danger, adrenaline drained to leave merely disappointment. There was no one here to question, and they appeared to have left no trail to follow.

With a sigh, Hotch pulled out his phone to check in with Gideon and Prentiss, and JJ wandered idly from the entryway to the kitchen, to the living room, wishing that there were something she might find that could help; anything that might point them in the right direction.

Peering into the dim light of the den, JJ heard Hotch call, "JJ, ready to go?" and she started to turn, only to be stopped by a glimpse of a crumbled scrap of paper in the bottom of a wire trash basket by the computer desk.

"Just a second," she called back to her boss, stepping forward hopefully, while trying not to get too excited yet. Reaching in, she pulled the balled paper out and smoothed it to a wrinkled flatness. Her sharp eyes took in short notation jotted there, which to anyone else might have been meaningless, and she gasped, her eyes flying back up to latch on Hotch, who had just entered the room, curious about what was keeping her.

"We've got something," JJ said breathlessly. "This is our guy."

Morgan and Reid had arrived at Garcia's apartment within minutes since she only lived a few miles from the office. Nothing had seemed out of place, and Reid had moved to get on her laptop and check the blog that JJ had mentioned, while Morgan had picked up a framed picture that sat prominently atop her dresser.

His features softened; dark chocolate eyes taking on a look that could only have been described as wistful, if anyone had seen, as he studied the scene captured there. He remembered the day it had been taken fondly.

The picture was nearly a year old, taken over the past Memorial Day weekend at the Bureau's Annual Picnic, and depicted him standing facing an impishly giggling Garcia, who'd urged him to come try one of the red-white-and-blue cupcakes only to smoosh it right in his face. In the picture, he was grinning broadly as well, cheeks creased with wide dimples, knowing he'd walked right into it, and blue frosting was covering his nose and upper lip. A laughing Reid was captured in the background, looking surprised that Garcia had actually followed through on what Morgan later learned had been Reid's dare. As he continued to look, he could see that his hand had just reached out to grab her wrists, and he remembered the strange tingle he'd felt run through him as he'd made contact with her skin and then proceeded to make her wipe most of the icing back off his face and smear it across her own forehead and cheekbones.

Forcing himself to put the picture frame back not and not dwell on things that would only make him feel worse right now, he spoke gruffly to Reid, sounding choked even to his own ears. "While you're checking that out, I'm gonna go through that pile of mail out on the living room coffee table; see if he slipped anything in that way." He needed something to focus on.

Reid nodded distractedly, already logged on and skimming through pages of typed test, and Morgan left the bedroom trying not to wonder whether or not Garcia would ever again smile that winning carefree smile from the picture once they found her, or if they would find her, and why exactly he'd never considered what those tingles he'd felt when he touched her had meant. None of that was going to help them right now.

Instead, he sat on her brightly flower-patterned yellow couch and began sifting through a pile of mail that was largely bills with some junk advertisements and a letter from her mom and stepdad mixed in. With a sigh, he'd just tossed them all back onto the wooden surface and leaned forward, massaging his temples trying to stave off the massive stress headache pounding its way into his skull, when Reid called him from the other room, his voice sounding concerned.

Morgan pushed himself to his feet quickly, the feeling of defeat he'd been suffering under now suddenly overcome with a rush of adrenaline. He could tell by Reid's voice that he had found something, and Morgan could only hope that it was the something they needed to find this sick bastard.

"What've you got?" he asked Reid immediately upon re-entering the room. He knew he sounded rushed and impatient, but couldn't bring himself to feel to badly about it right then. Reid knew as well as he did that they didn't have another minute to lose.

Reid glanced up from the computer screen to meet Morgan's eyes and surprisingly looked like he was blinking through a film of unshed tears.

"What's wrong?" Morgan prompted, tension exploding in his veins at the look on his partner's face. Had the unsub left a message about Garcia? Left something that told what he'd done to her? Were they too late?

Reid seemed as though he might not say anything in response as moments stretched on in silence, Morgan's eyes trying fruitlessly to search his for answers. Finally, he swallowed hard and vacated his chair, motioning for Morgan to take it. "I think you need to read this," Reid managed softly. "I found a passage in this where that phrase about her wanting someone who could handle a strong, independent woman – the one he quoted in that note in her office – he didn't _hear_ her say it, he read it on here. This is how he found her, how he knew so much about her, and probably the rest of us too. But it's also…well, I think you just need to read the whole entry…at least, I hope you should…I feel like I've already invaded her privacy…but, still…" he fumbled into silence, gesturing helplessly.

"Why?" Morgan asked, eyes still on Reid. "What is it? Can't you just tell me? I don't wanna waste precious time here."

"You need to know this," Reid said firmly.

"Why would Garcia put all kinds of personal stuff in an online diary like this anyway? They're not especially secure. Anyone could get to this, she knows that."

"I'm guessing she needed badly enough to get it out somewhere that she just did it anyway," Reid responded, voice sounding almost pained. "Maybe she didn't have anyone she felt she could talk to about it face-to-face, but she needed to purge, to feel like she was sharing with someone. I don't know. But if you'd just read it, maybe you'd understand more."

Exhaling in frustration, Morgan turned to stare at the computer screen, wondering why Reid wouldn't just sum up what was so important on here so they could move on. As he started to read, he heard Reid shuffle back a few steps, almost as if trying to afford him privacy. And then he was suddenly and completely sucked into Penelope Garcia's words on display before him…

_"…He's perfect really. Which is why _

_it's so ridiculous that I even imagine for_

_a second that he could return these feelings_

_I have for him. But he's exactly the kind_

_of man I always dreamed about. Fiery_

_and passionate, brave, strong, smart,_

_this hilarious sense of humor. I don't _

_think he'd be even a bit intimidated by_

_a strong, independent woman – in fact,_

_I think he'd welcome that. And, oh my, he's _

_so gorgeous he could make a girl's heart_

_stop just by looking at her right. Yeah, I_

_think I managed to fall for Derek Morgan_

_right in the second before I warned myself_

_I couldn't. I know I can't be with him, know_

_he'd never look at me that way. But it doesn't_

_change the way I feel._

_He makes me feel like the way I look, my odd_

_little quirks, all the stuff that disappointed other_

_guys, are okay. Like none of that bothers him –_

_or even matters. There's times I almost let_

_myself think he likes those things about me. I_

_know it's crazy. And in my saner moments I'll_

_know I'll never be any more than a friend to him,_

_but I don't know how to let the feelings go…"_

The entry ended abruptly there, as if she hadn't been able to write, or even think, anymore about it right then. But he pain wrapping itself around Derek Morgan's chest, twisting and squeezing, didn't stop as he finished reading. It was the same pain he'd felt pouring from her words, now locked tight within him, trapping his breath.

_'How could I have been so blind?' _he kept thinking, his mind repeating the question dazedly, shocked and hurting. All those times they'd joked and flirted, she'd been holding this inside, afraid to tell him and going home each night to pour her pain out to a blank computer screen.

Something wet and salty track its way done to his mouth, he tasted the sting of a tear and closed his eyes to forestall any more, praying fervently that Reid hadn't seen. Though it seemed his friend and partner had been affected by what Garcia had written as well, and would surely understand, Morgan had never let any of the people on his team see him cry. He had hardly allowed himself to cry in years, not since he'd shed so many of anger and shame alone in his room as a teenager.

It hit him suddenly, as heavy and stunning as a blow to the head, _'I'm in love with her,' _he whispered to himself, disbelief quickly being taken over by certainty. Once he realized it, he wondered how he had never seen it before. And she'd been silently loving him back all the time, thinking she didn't even have a chance. He'd just been playing along, taking their friendship and teasing, and her, for granted. It had taken her words revealing her feelings, and this very real possibility he faced of losing her, to make him understand. He only hoped he'd be able to make this right.

"Should I not have shown you?" Reid's voice broke in hesitantly at his elbow just then.

Morgan shook his head. "No, Reid, I'm glad you did. I can't believe I was so stupid about all this. How did neither of us know what the other was thinking?"

Reid grinned sheepishly, looking slightly happier. "The rest of us could tell," he admitted. "We just figured you two would wake up and see it for yourselves one of these days."

"Well, I see it now," Morgan said firmly. "I've gotta find her and tell her how wrong this blog she wrote here is. She needs to know that…that I'm…"

Reid couldn't help chuckling to see Morgan fumbling for the right words, like he so often teased Reid for doing. He merely nodded, letting Morgan know he understood. They were interrupted just then by Morgan's cell ringing.

Pulling it out and putting it to his ear, Morgan heard Hotch's voice over the line, tense and sounding as if he were on the move, launching right into orders without greeting or preamble. "Morgan, are you and Reid still at Garcia's?" 

"Yeah, Hotch, we're still here. We're finishing up though. Looks like he found her and learned all about her through this blog she kept."

"JJ and I found out who our unsub is, he had her blog's address and what I would assume is the screen name he used on a piece of paper in the trash. We got a lead on where he might have taken her. Gideon and Prentiss are behind us. We'll be there in ten minutes."

Morgan said goodbye, closed the phone and turned to Reid. "They know who it is," Morgan said simply. "Time to go and get her back."


	7. Chapter 7

Just want to quickly say thanks again to all the people who've been reading this story, and especially to those who've left all the nice reviews. It really encourages me to keep going. Hope you're still liking it! And now, on with the show…

Don't Take Me For Granted

Chapter 7

April 8th, 8:15 p.m.

Consciousness ebbed slowly back into Garcia's foggy mind, as she cautiously blinked her eyes open after nearly three hours of drugged oblivion. She didn't know what that lunatic had given her, but even after all the time she'd been out, her head was still spinning, her limbs felt disconnected from her brain as it tried to make them move, and she had to fight down the urge to be violently ill.

But, as she began to take inventory of herself, realizing that she was still sitting mostly upright in the hard-backed chair, her clothes still intact, and not experiencing any pain other than the side effects of the drug, relief flooded her. Things could have gone much worse, after all. For one second, one precious millisecond, she wondered if maybe it had all been a horrific nightmare that was over now.

However, that blessed illusion was only a momentary comfort. She glanced around herself to see nothing but the four walls of this maniac's cabin still surrounding her.

Except that now, she realized, as she reached up to rub her eyes, trying to focus without her glasses, she was untied. Glancing around, she saw no sign of her abductor and would-be attacker, which made her even more nervous. Where could he be hiding? He surely wouldn't have left her loose and risked her waking up and trying to escape, would he? Was he somewhere she couldn't see; watching her even now? Or had he slipped, overconfidently assuming that she wouldn't try to run when he had her at his mercy in the middle of nowhere?

_'Well, there's where he got it wrong,' _she muttered to herself, pushing unsteadily to her feet, readying herself for a second as both dizziness and nausea swept through her and then thankfully passed. She was going to at least attempt to save herself, since she'd been given the chance.

With one last glance over her shoulder, seeing that the cabin was truly empty, she crept toward the door, and reached out to turn the knob and push it open. But, just as her hand had made contact, and she was about to step out and taste sweet freedom, the doorknob turned seemingly of its own accord, and the door opened towards her, bringing her face-to-face with her assailant.

April 8th, 8:25 p.m.

The BAU's two black SUVs were speeding as fast as either Hotch or Morgan dared drive in the dark and through hairpin turns on the increasingly less manageable roads in the hills of backwoods Virginia. They'd been on the road for almost two hours, going further and further out into what Garcia herself would have classified as 'the boonies,' and Morgan couldn't help thinking fondly for a second of her teasing Reid through his fear of that creepy, dark cabin in the middle of similar backwoods territory during their case in Ozona, Texas months ago. It was a memory that didn't help for long, but it did make him smile for a second, before his mind again cried out that they weren't getting to her fast enough. He jammed his foot down even further on the gas – drawing a nervous exclamation form Reid, and causing Prentiss to grip the door handle tightly in the back seat. The headlights of the vehicle behind them carrying Hotch, Gideon, and JJ seemed to grow a bit smaller.

After what seemed another minor eternity of curving around in near-blackness in the middle of nowhere, a cabin swam into his line of vision, not far off to the left of the deserted road. Morgan pulled over just barely onto the rough drive the led back a half- mile perhaps to their destination, knowing that Hotch was doing the same behind them. He parked quickly, and killed the lights.

All six remaining members of the team were out of their vehicles, shutting the doors soundlessly and fanning out as they moved toward the eerily quiet cabin. Heart hammering, Derek could barely even allow himself to consider what he'd do if it turned out she wasn't here. Their unsub's file hadn't been huge, but there had been the mention of a cabin he owned in the woods, where he was known to sometimes retreat for days to fish undisturbed. Looking around at how dark and quiet the area was, Morgan knew he certainly wouldn't have been disturbed out here. There was a small bit of light coming through the chinks and cracks in the log walls, but other than that Morgan wondered how they'd even managed to see the cabin from the road. There were no windows to let out the kind of cozy glow cabins normally radiated, and the one door was of course closed.

While the rest of his team was moving to circle and surround the place, Morgan was heading straight for the door. Penelope had already been left there alone with that lunatic for far too long. He was getting in there as fast as he could now that he finally knew where to go – protocol and precautions for his own safety be damned.

Hotch, just off to his left, motioned for him to slow down, and Morgan, grinding his teeth in impatience, and fighting his every urge to ignore his supervisor and barrel ahead, forced himself to slow up, if only a fraction.

But that was when he heard her cry out; her beautiful voice carrying on the chill night air in pain and shock. And there was no holding back, no stopping himself. With a roar of near-animal rage, that someone would dare hurt her, he took the steps in an instant, and planted a foot squarely in the center of the wooden door, crashing inside the cabin as he kicked it in.

April 8th, 8:20 p.m.

Garcia was frozen for several eternally long moments as she stared, rooted to the spot, into eyes as deep, angry, and remorseless as a churning ocean. Then, her captor stormed through the door, slamming it behind him, and shoved her backward, clamping a hand around her throat as he did so.

"Thinking of leaving, were you?" he snarled "And just how did you possibly think you were going to escape without my catching you?"

She couldn't answer, eyes watering as his fingers crushed into her windpipe, cutting off her air supply. Her hands scrabbled up, trying to pry his fingers away; panic rising in her as she failed to make him stop, or even loosen his grip. _'I can't breathe!' _her mind screamed helplessly.

Just as black spots began to swim through her vision and lightheadedness began to encroach on her, her pushed her back into the chair and relaxed his savage grip at last. He stood over her panting angrily, as ready to dole out punishment. He reached towards her, and her hands came up, trying to fight him off as she yelled crazily. "Leave me alone! Don't touch me!"

And as simply as that, he snapped. "I'll do whatever I like, and there's nothing you can do to stop me," he announced coldly. The words ran down her spine like ice water and before she could even blink, he'd stunned her, rocking her backwards with a clenched fist to the side of her face, crunching sickly as it connected with her cheekbone.

Tears swam unbidden to her eyes from the pain, and she could feel blood trickling with them as a howl of fear and shock and pain poured from her lips. And then, too much happened at once…

April 8th, 8:35 p.m.

The sight that greeted him when the door flew in on its hinges from the force of his blow, and he burst into that shabby, derelict cabin, would haunt Derek Morgan's nightmares for the rest of his days. The psychopath that had taken Penelope, was standing facing the door, now directly across from him in the small space. He'd pulled her to her feet and was clutching her body in front of him, using her as a shield, and holding a gun to her head. There was a thin trail of blood running down one side of her face, standing out stark and terrible against her pale, flawless skin and light blond hair.

Though one side of her face seemed slack with pain and she looked to be dubiously holding onto awareness, her eyes flickered up to meet his and latched on when she found his gaze. Her beautiful eyes flooded with surprise and relief when she saw him, and that look sent a jolt through him akin to voltage from an electric shock. _'She trusts me to save her,' _he realized. The knowledge galvanized him to action as nothing else could have, not even allowing for the other, more painful, thought – that she seemed surprised to see them all here for her.

"Pen," he said her name softly, shifting to an almost crooning quality, having to let her know he was there now, hoping to calm her, hoping to make sure she stayed still. "It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine."

Morgan wanted so badly to step forward and hold her just then. She was scared and hurt and she needed him. And now she was finally right there before his eyes, but he still couldn't get to her.

As if reading his thoughts, her captor seemed to tighten the arm that was wrapped around her shoulders and neck, "Don't take a step closer. She's mine, and you're not going to take her from me. I'll kill her first."

Derek immediately ceased moving, breathing in a deep breath, forcing himself to keep calm. A tiny whimper came from Garcia, but she was hanging in there, and didn't move or make any other sound. He'd given enough room for at least Hotch to enter the room behind him, knowing his boss would do just that. He kept his gun trained on the guy as best he could, but there was no way he could safely take a shot without the possibility of hitting Penelope. "It's the end of the road, man," Morgan told his prey firmly, "You're surrounded. Why don't you put the gun down and come with us quietly?"

There was no response, only the sight of him fingering the trigger, going one step closer to pulling it, while it was nestled up against Penelope's beautiful temple. Morgan couldn't help flinching, just slightly. "Don't move, Pen," he directed her in a whisper, praying she could just hold on until one of them found an opening, "We're gonna get you out of this. Just look at me. Hang in there, okay?"

Her eyes didn't leave his, and though the plea for help in them was wringing his heart, he didn't look away. Instead he let his eyes hold her the only way he could right then. But his words seemed to send her captor into a frenzy.

"Shut up! You don't talk to her! She's coming with me!" And in a split second, the opening finally came. His gun hand suddenly whipped out to take aim at Morgan, and as he did so, his body pulled away from Garcia's just a bit. It wasn't enough for Morgan to feel safe to shoot, but he did take the opening to launch himself at the guy, ready to take him apart with his bare hands.

A shot rang out mere seconds before Morgan slammed into him, knocking the gun out of the stalker's hand. Mouth open in shock and anger, the unsub fell back, a bullet wound from Hotch's gun in his shoulder and reeling from the impact of Morgan's fist. His grip on Garcia slackened, but she still ended up falling with him, tangled up as she was.

Morgan reached out to try and catch her, but not before the back of her head connected with the edge of the bunk they had been backed up to. She let out a gasp, and looked up at him gratefully as he managed to keep her from hitting the floor, only to succumb for the second time in one day to complete and utter blackness.

"Penelope!" Morgan cried out, anguished, starting to lightly tap her cheek to try and wake her up, only to feel the bone give sickeningly as he touched her cheekbone near where the blood was staining her face. "Answer me, Pen! Come on, look at me! Stay with me here!"

He could sense Hotch beside him, already on the phone to EMS and hear Gideon, Reid, JJ, and Prentiss spilling into the room behind them, but he couldn't spare them even a look. He only had eyes for her, wishing she'd wake up and look at him; wanting her to know she was safe, and how much she was loved. But she didn't respond, and all he could do was smooth a hand through her hair and gather her limp form up in his arms, praying they weren't too late.


	8. Chapter 8

(Wow, I'm totally psyched about this story and how great you guys have been to read it and let me know what you think! And, just so you know, this chapter may seem like it could be the end of the story, but there will be one more – an epilogue of sorts. Of course, none of the characters or the show itself are mine, though this story is. Enjoy!)

Don't Take Me for Granted

Chapter 8

April 8th, 10:20 p.m.

The sounds of sirens echoing through the darkness outside were all that penetrated the worried haze of Derek Morgan's pacing the floor of a strange hospital's waiting room. EMS from Roanoke had arrived at the cabin of Randall Baker, their stalker, within twenty minutes of Hotch's call. A good response time considering how far out in the woods they'd been. But it had now been over an hour since they'd whisked Penelope away into the hospital without him, and he'd had no word since – which, in his opinion, was highly unacceptable.

As he'd stared down at her, waiting for the ambulance to reach them, he'd kept thinking that she still wasn't opening her eyes, and he wanted to catch her lovely, vibrant gaze for more than just the instant when she'd looked at him gratefully before she passed out. When he'd kept trying to revive her, Gideon had thought it best for him to stop; she was breathing and her pulse was easily found, if a bit fast, and so they should probably simply be keeping her as still as possible in case she had injuries they couldn't see or know of. He'd also thought she could very well be in shock and the best thing they could do was to let her body get the rest it had retreated into, at least until they knew what they were dealing with. Morgan had bitten back a retort, but left it alone and done as Gideon suggested; wondering why everyone else always seemed to be trying to tell him what was best. He needed to see her smile; needed to know she was alright. And something told him she needed to see him too.

When the paramedics had reached them, Morgan had insisted on lifting her onto the gurney himself, cradling her gently in his strong, steady embrace for just that last little bit longer – hating to let her go, and not wanting to trust her to anyone else for even a moment. And he'd followed her quickly into the ambulance, without asking for permission or waiting for any orders otherwise.

In the ambulance, her eyes had fluttered open briefly, lighting on him as he clutched her hand, murmuring nonsense to her about being sorry, and things he needed to say to her, and her being fine again soon, and him needing her to open her eyes.

"Derek?" she asked, perplexed and disoriented. "How'd you get here?" Her voice was soft and breathless, but it had never sounded better to hear her speak than it did right then. "Is he gone?"

"We tracked him down, Pen. Remember? We found you; you're safe now." He stroked his free hand that wasn't clutching hers over her brow lightly, and her eyes closed again without her saying another word.

Concerned, he glanced across at the EMT on her other side checking her over, and demanded. "She is okay, isn't she? Why does she keep drifting off like that? Is that normal?"

The EMT gave Morgan what he was sure was meant to be a reassuring smile, but it didn't do much to still the fear and anger still surging through his insides. "Considering that she was pretty heavily drugged not long ago, and then suffered a blow to the head, I'd say it's mostly to be expected…Sir," he added respectfully, seeing the stormy look on Morgan's brow darkening even more and knowing the federal agent didn't like his simple answer. "It's probably a good sign that she opened her eyes or spoke to you at all."

Morgan managed to nod, not having any polite thanks or other understanding comments to offer. He simply wanted someone to tell him for certain that Penelope would be fine. Then he wanted to be able to talk to her, to tell her all that he'd realized suddenly, with a lightening bolt of clarity in the midst of this horrendous, nightmarish day she'd been missing, and to somehow ease the pain he had unknowningly inflicted on her heart by not seeing what they had between them.

But they'd whisked her out of the ambulance and off into the ER, not letting him follow, and he hadn't had a glimpse of her since then. The rest of the team rushed into the waiting room 20 minutes behind the ambulance, having dropped their subject off at the jail, and speeding on to the hospital. Between JJ, Reid, and Emily pelting questions at him, and Hotch trying to calm them down and get control of the situation, Morgan felt like he might be about to explode until Gideon calmly stepped in, holding up his hands for quiet and asking gently if Morgan had gotten any updates on Garcia's condition.

"Gideon, no," Morgan burst out, frustrated, and probably sounding as impatient as he'd ever let himself with his boss. "No one's told me anything, or even checked back in here."

Gideon had merely nodded silently, and they had settled down to wait. JJ plopped down into a nearby chair, looking deflated, and allowing Reid to give her hand a reassuring squeeze for a second, before positioning himself beside her and pulling a book from his satchel. He sat back and began rapidly scanning through the pages as she mechanically began flipping through the channels on the wall TV without watching anything that came up. Hotch guided an oddly shaken and lost-looking Prentiss toward the elevators to find the cafeteria and supper, promising to bring the rest of them coffee when they returned.

But Gideon remained in the exact same spot, watching Morgan intently until he finally said, with quiet assurance, "She's going to be fine," along with a hand clasped for a moment to Derek's upper arm.

"I know that, in my head," Morgan answered, letting out a harsh breath and running a hand over his face, "but I can't help feeling like I should have gotten there sooner, or I should have recognized the threat to her when she showed me that stuff this morning, and kept this from happening…"

Gideon gave a very slight shake of his head and squared his gaze at Morgan, forcing the taller man to meet his eyes. "You did everything you could," he said firmly. "We found her in time. You saved her." The older agent knew that Morgan had to accept what had happened, and believe that it had not been his fault. He would never be able to move on from this if he took on guilt for something that had been beyond his control. He and Garcia would never have a chance together if he felt that he'd allowed this to happen to her.

"It's more than that," Morgan admitted, voice low. "I've kept things from her that I didn't even know I needed – wanted – to say, and I hurt her. I've taken what I have with her for granted, and today I nearly lost her."

"It isn't too late, you know," Gideon said, with the slightest hint of a wise smile. "I think you know now what you ought to do." And with that, he turned to go the same way down the hall as Hotch and Prentiss had.

Morgan watched him leave, shaking his head in amused disbelief. Apparently, everyone else really had known the way he felt long before he did. Not that he would have figured he could put anything past Gideon, the man seemed nearly capable of reading minds, the way he always seemed to know what was going on with people. Thinking that he had been incredibly dense, while all those around him were seeing what was so blatantly obvious, he simply allowed himself a small chuckle at his own blindness and resumed his pacing.

Not long after, a nurse finally entered the waiting room and asked him if he was Derek Morgan. He nodded, swallowing hard, as JJ rocketed out of her seat and Reid fumbled up from his hunched reading posture as well. Both of them looked nearly as anxious as he felt.

Morgan stepped forward, trying to school his features into a neutral expression, so it didn't look as though he were actually begging for good news. The nurse gave him a kind smile and beckoned for him to follow her. "Ms. Garcia is asking for you. If you'd follow me, I'll take you to her."

He nodded, more desperate to see her than he'd like to admit. She must be alright if she'd asked for visitors…

Reid and JJ exchanged pleased glances behind his retreating back as he left the room, and then Reid pulled out his cell to call Gideon, Hotch, and Prentiss with the positive update, thinking all the time, that he now finally had the ammunition to return a little of the teasing that Morgan had been giving him for so long.

April 8th, 10:40 p.m.

When the nurse left him at the door to Penelope's room, Derek put his hand out to push it open, and then stopped, pausing for just a second to collect his thoughts, suddenly nervous. He could see her through the window, lying so still in the hospital bed, her gaze fixed determinedly out the window. She looked so alone, and so sad. He didn't think he'd ever seen her look so vulnerable and fragile, and he wished once again that he'd taken the time to wring her attacker's neck and beat him to a pulp for good measure. He couldn't let himself think that someone could steal the fire and joy from her personality; it was going to be his goal, from this moment, to make sure that she recovered from this with her amazingly sunny soul intact. She was what was important right now, and all he had left to do was make her see that. And those thoughts finally managed to propel him into the room, despite his nerves, and his misgivings, and his not quite knowing what he was going to say.

She heard the door open, and whipped around quickly, gasping as though she thought Baker had come back to finish her off. And Morgan hated the scumbag even more for making his brash, outgoing, crazy, lively goddess afraid.

He could, however, see her visibly relax when she realized it was him at her door. She gave him a tentative version of her usual smile and motioned him closer. "Hey, there you are," she whispered, her voice sounding a little raspy and tear-choked, like she was suffering a sore throat and just barely holding the crying back, but she did look happy to see him and her eyes twinkled a bit as she continued. "Come on over here, Romeo, or are you scared of me all of a sudden?"

He chuckled as she threw in a wink at him. She didn't know how close to the truth she was. He'd never been at a lost for words with her, and yet now he was terrified that he wouldn't say this right, that he wouldn't be able to make her understand how he felt about her.

As he drew up to the side of the bed, he got a closer view of the left side of her face, encompassed in bruises and swelled up puffily. "You okay there, Angel Face?" he asked, pulling back just in time to keep himself from touching it in sympathy, knowing any contact at all would hurt her. He found himself blinking back tears of his own, realizing that her cheekbone was probably broken. He felt strangled on the words, but struggled to keep the mood light.

"I'm better now, Handsome," she said.

He sank into the chair beside her bed, suddenly feeling weak-kneed as adrenaline flagged into relief and exhaustion upon finally seeing that she was safe and awake again. "You gave me quite a scare today, Mama," he said honestly, reaching out and lacing his fingers with hers.

"Well, believe me, it wasn't my idea of a good time," she countered with mock indignation, though she half-grinned with the right side of her mouth mischievously and squeezed his hand in hers, praying he wouldn't let go. She needed his strength and his presence beside her. She needed his touch right now as if it were medicine to drive out the memories of this day.

"I'd hope not," Morgan shot back, but the laughing tone didn't last. He drew their intertwined fingers up to his mouth and kissed her knuckle reverently. "Seriously, Pen, I just…There's something I've gotta tell you."

"Derek, what is it?" she asked, her mood sobering immediately. Had something happened she didn't know about? Had one of the others gotten hurt in the rescue they'd staged for her? Was he angry with her for all this? Did he think she'd brought this upon herself, being so thrilled to have a secret admirer? Of all the many things, she'd thought he might be going to say, what he actually said next was one of the last she had expected.

"Penelope Garcia, do you have any idea how crazy about you I am? You probably don't, and that's my fault. I've never let you know. I don't think I even realized it myself until today, when I thought I might lose you. I'd be lost. I can't even imagine what my world would be like without you in it. I don't let people in easily, and I obviously haven't made it clear to you how amazing I think you are. But now I've got you back, and I've gotten another chance, and I'm going to tell you how I feel. There's something here between us, something I think we should finally give a chance, see where it goes. Tell me I haven't taken you for granted for too long, that I've still got a chance to make it up to you." At this, Morgan abruptly and completely ran out of words, instead he simply stared into her eyes, hoping she could believe everything he'd said, and that she still wanted him despite how long it had taken him to see that he wanted her too.

Garcia couldn't seem to piece it all together, maybe it was the bump on her head, or all the terror and pain and emotional trauma she'd been through in the last several hours, but she suddenly felt as though Morgan were toying with her. He couldn't actually love her back. She knew there was no way that could ever happen. She'd been telling herself that for so long, trying to protect her heart, that it didn't seem possible for him to mean what he'd just said. Tears finally did well up and spill down her face and she spoke angrily when she answered him. "Don't tease me, Morgan!," she hissed. "I'm not completely stupid. I don't know if you're just feeling sorry for me because I'm hurt, or what, but I know you don't feel the same way about me that I feel about you. You never have, and I've accepted that. But don't mess with me. I can't take anymore. I want too much for you to really say those things to me!" She jerked her hand away from his and tried to turn away and not look at him, but the pain that flashed in his deep, soulful eyes stopped her.

"Do you really think I'd toy with you like that, Penelope?" he asked, clearly upset. "I know we tease and flirt, but I would never make a speech like that if I didn't mean it. If you're having a hard time taking me at my word because it's taken me so long to say it, I'm sorry. But you have to know I'd never hurt you like that. I'm telling you the truth, now matter how late I am doing it. You have to believe me."

She looked into his eyes for a long time, trying to gauge what he was thinking and feeling, trying to weigh what she knew and believed against what she'd hoped for and never thought possible. Finally, she nodded and said, "I do believe you, Derek. I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't lie to me. I guess you just surprised me. I never thought you'd look at me that way, and I didn't want to get hurt anymore."

"It's okay," he returned, smoothing a hand over her curls and gently cupping the uninjured side of her face in his hands. "I understand."

And then, she let loose. The tears and the pain and fear and love she'd been holding in came pouring out and she was crying with her head in his chest, her hands clutching at his shoulders, as the sobs were wrenched from her. "I was so afraid I'd never see you again. That he was going to… That I was about to die… And then you came to rescue me."

She cried for a long time, and Morgan found himself shedding some tears with her as he held her, rubbing her back and murmuring soothing things to her. When she'd finally calmed down, and pulled away again to sit back, sniffling and wiping her eyes, she smiled at him, her face seeming radiant again after finally shedding some of the burden she'd been carrying. "So you're sure you want me?" she asked, giggling, slightly loopy as all the emotion and all that her body had been through were finally catching up to her. "Broken face, and extra pounds, and my big loud mouth and all?"

"Absolutely, Baby Girl," he said, his voice rumbling happily.

She was starting to get sleepy again, Morgan could see her eyelids starting to droop closed. "In that case, Hot Stuff, maybe we'll have to reconsider getting you some chaps, like I suggested that time you were in Texas."

Shaking his head, he stood, tucking the blankets and sheets back around her snuggly and bending to place a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Why don't you just take it easy for right now, Garcia?" he answered. "Rest. I'll stay right here, and we'll talk some more when you wake up."

"You'd make a really sexy cowboy," she mumbled, just barely coherent, but not letting the joke go quite yet.

"We'll see," he murmured, his voice dropping even deeper as he leaned over so his warm breath tickled her ear and there was no chance anyone would hear him but her. Pleased with himself when he saw her shiver at those words he added, "Now get some sleep."


	9. Epilogue

(Okay, here it is, the end of the story. I'm so sorry that it took so long, but it couldn't be helped. Thanks again for all the reviews on this story and for letting me know you've enjoyed it. I've had such a good time with this one. I hope this little epilogue finishes it all up to your satisfaction. Enjoy!)

Don't Take Me for Granted

Epilogue (Chapter 9)

April 9th, 11:11 p.m.

"So, which movie are we watching next, Mama?" Derek asked, sauntering easily back into her living room with a large bowl of extra buttery popcorn in one hand, a huge bag of Reese's Pieces in the other, and an expectant, happy smile on his face. He was padding barefoot across the carpet, loose sweatpants riding low on his hips and six-pack abs; she could tell even with the saggy, white T-shirt he had on as well. The sight of him there, the way he moved – so comfortable, powerful, and self-assured – made her forget for just a second what her answer to his question was.

"Here ya are, as requested," he added, plopping down beside her on the couch and plunking the candy in her lap. He chuckled as she immediately curled her cold feet up against his thigh and plunged her hand into the bag, grinning around the handful of sweet candy that was soon stuffed in her mouth.

She in turn couldn't help simply munching on the pure sugar comfort for a moment, marveling at the fact that Derek Morgan was here in her living room, kicked back in his sweats, looking very cozy indeed, even if he was watching sappy romantic movies with her. It was almost too good to be true.

"Call me crazy, Baby Girl," he joked, laughing at the picture she made with her mouth full of candy and eyes twinkling happily as he'd feared they wouldn't be able to do after what she'd been through, "but I don't think I heard your answer around that half bag of Reese's Pieces you just inhaled."

She reached into the bowl of popcorn to throw some at him and bumped her hand into his that was already in the bowl, instantaneously causing sparks to shoot off inside her, her cheeks reddening as she started to stammer instead of delivering the clever comeback she'd intended to give him.

"Yes?" he pressed, maddening calm as he waited for her answer, eyes full of tempting glee as he popped his handful of popcorn into his mouth. He was playing it cool, just to see her flustered – which he loved even more than he ever had – even though in truth his heart was fluttering as nervously as hers at the brief contact. It was just different now.

This was the first time he'd had her alone since she'd been taken from them, and they had gotten her back, and he had finally admitted his true feelings to her. And now he was wondering just how he had never wanted this with her before.

The hospital had kept her overnight to monitor her and make sure she didn't have a concussion from the blow she'd taken to the back of the head. And there had been no question in his mind that he would spend the night there at the hospital with her; she shouldn't have to be there alone, and with the nightmares he knew were bound to reoccur for him – this time with the woman he loved in them – he wanted to be where he could see for himself that she was safe and well when they'd undoubtedly jerk him awake in the middle of the night.

But this morning, when he had awoken to find her watching him sleep, with a peaceful, satisfied little smile on her cherubic face, he'd decided that today would truly be a brand new day. If she could face this new morning seeming that okay, so soon after the ordeal she'd just weathered, then she was gonna be fine. They were going to be okay, and maybe – just maybe – the wake-up call he'd received by almost losing her, might end up making things better than he'd ever known they could be.

There hadn't been a lot the doctors could do for the fractured cheekbone. They'd tried their best to reset it and had butterfly stitched and bandaged up where Baker's fist had broken the skin. But it still made that side of her face purple and tender-looking, while it was so puffy and swelled up that she looked a bit like a chipmunk storing something in her cheek. Even if she was smiling, it physically hurt him to see her braving an injury that had to be causing her a good bit of pain still.

"Are you sure you don't want an ice pack for that while we watch?" he asked, for the third time, reaching out to cup her injured cheek with care in his large hand. He couldn't seem to help it; he wanted to make it better, to soothe and comfort.

And she leaned into the caress, a pleased sort of hum, almost a purr, rising softly from her throat. They stayed that way, unmoving, for some time, both drawing immense solace from the other's presence and touch. Finally, she pulled back just slightly, pinning his gaze with her wide, expressive eyes, once again framed by her beloved quirky glasses. "Thank you, Derek," she whispered, placing her hand over his where it rested on her face.

"For what, Sweetness?" he asked, touched by the tone of her voice, but truly not sure what he had done to deserve her gratitude. He'd been too late, she'd been terrified and badly hurt before he'd gotten there, and he'd caused her even more hurt before, by not understanding how much he cared about her.

"Don't you know?" she whispered, her voice wavering suspiciously with emotion. She laid a hand on his forearm, feeling the need to touch him to drive her point home. "You really have to ask?" her eyes glittered a little with unshed tears. "For coming to my rescue, silly," here she winked just a little at him, trying to lighten things up again. "My hero." She couldn't understand why he didn't see – to her, he was her hero, coming to save her from the clutches of a madman. He'd burst through that door, taken down an armed criminal, and all just to get her back. The fact that he'd admitted to sharing her romantic feelings just suddenly made him all that much more amazing to her.

He chuckled and pulled her closer, looking deep into her eyes. "Don't thank me for that, there was nothing else I would have done. Besides…I was too late. You still got hurt. If I'd done my job…if I'd acted when I should have…he would have never been able to get to you. I was blind in so many different ways yesterday…that I can't believe you're thanking me, and letting me hold you, today."

"Derek, stop," she said firmly, her voice taking on the no-nonsense tone she got sometimes, when her computers weren't finding the information she needed fast enough, and she was ordering them to speed up. "You did exactly what you had to do. I'm right here, and I'm going to be fine. You're not allowed to keep beating yourself up over this."

She very nearly gave into giggles while issuing her mock order. "Is that so?" he questioned.

"Yes," she nodded emphatically. Then, her voice took on a gentler tone, one he didn't think he'd ever heard before, that seemed to set his blood on fire. It was a loving, almost seductive sort of a lilt as she asked, "If you won't take a thank you for your rescue heroics, can I thank you for loving me back?"

His grin broadened, lighting even his eyes, which had been dark and troubled from thinking again on what he saw as the many ways he'd failed her, and from studying her bruised and swelling face. "Only if you realize that you're totally worthy of it, and completely more than I deserve. I should have told you I loved you ages ago. How could I not know?"

Their conversation suddenly sobered. Their eyes locked, and Derek felt himself lick his lips as both of them succumbed to the force that was drawing them closer and they were pulled in towards their first real kiss. He was ready to test the waters, but afraid too. What if he disappointed her? She wasn't just some fling; there was a lot of pressure, because this mattered. He'd never had any trouble in this department before, but he'd also never cared so much about making it wonderful.

But then, their lips touched, and it was like nothing he had ever experienced before – he was flooded with emotions and sensations on contact with her – pulling a guttural, masculine groan of pleasure from deep in his chest.

He felt her smile at that, could feel her lips move against his own, soft as rose petals, and beautifully healing to his soul. He'd needed this for so long, and she had been right there waiting for him to finally see. Reaching out, he pulled her in until she was half on his lap and they couldn't get much closer, continuing to kiss her all the while, thinking that he might never stop, it felt so right.

She whimpered slightly, and he pulled away, not sure if he'd hurt her somehow, "You okay, Gorgeous?" he whispered.

Penelope nodded her blonde head, her curls bouncing in a way that he found suddenly mesmerized him, but then he saw a single tear trek down her face. "What?" he asked softly, "What's the matter?"

"I just…I can't believe…I convinced myself you couldn't look at me the way I wanted you to…I never thought you'd really kiss me like that someday…And then, I thought I was going to die out there in that cabin, and never have even told you…how…how much I love you," she whispered, looking both awed and scared, as if she thought this was all a dream that she was going to suddenly wake up from and make it disappear.

"Pen, honey," Derek said, tilting her chin up, "Look at me. You don't know just how beautiful you look to me right now. I'm going to see that from now on whenever I look at you. You're amazing…and…I love you too."

She blinked more rapidly then, other tears joining the first one that had fallen, but he wiped them all away without comment, knowing that these were happy tears. Looking up at him with a smile, studying the sincerity on his face and seemingly finally deciding that all he said really was true, she surprised him when she spoke. "Let's watch _The Bodyguard _next," she said, answering his much, much earlier question.

"That seems fitting," he teased, rising to find the movie and put it in the player. When he returned to his seat, she snuggled up against him, certain at last of the unspoken invitation and her place there. As the movie began, he couldn't help stroking his hand over her shoulders, and then, idly running his fingers through her hair.

He looked down a few minutes later to find her asleep with her head on his chest. With a satisfied smile, he leaned back into the arm of the couch, making himself comfortable for the night, and effectively making it so she was still cradled in his arms, but lying more comfortably as well. He propped his feet up on the coffee table, and watched the movie for just a while longer, before he too fell asleep peacefully, holding the woman he loved.


End file.
